Iceskating
by SilenceIsDeafening
Summary: Sherlock can solve a murder case in under 5 minutes... But can he tell Molly how he feels about her? How can he when he can't even buy her a gift?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was a glorious day. The sun was golden and streaming through the open window into Mrs. Hudon's flat. John quietly sipped his tea as he listened to bowls clinking in the kitchen as Mrs. Hudson washed the breakfast dishes. John had been joining her every morning he could for breakfast. It was practically the only peace he had each day, and he enjoyed it quite a lot. Living with a man such as Sherlock could make anyone lose their sanity, after all. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, dreading for the moment he would have to leave the silence and peace of Mrs. Hudson's flat. Suddenly, a deafening shot echoed through the building, followed by a crash! John's eyes shot open, and he leapt up. Another shot sounded, and a voice came from the kitchen. "Oh, for God's sake, John! Will you tell him to stop that racket? I will have to charge you two for the damages if you ever decide to move out!" John rounded the corner to see an upset Mrs. Hudson on the floor sweeping broken glass from the floor. John assumed she had dropped it when she heard the gunshot. Another shot sounded, and John groaned. "I am so sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I have been trying so hard to get him to stop! He hasn't had a case in weeks…" John sighed. "Honestly, He's either screeching on that violin of his, or shooting holes in the goddamn wall!" John placed his unfinished tea on the counter sadly.

"Good day, Mrs. Hudson," John sighed.

"It was starting to be," grumbled Mrs. Hudson. Another shot sounded. John bounded upstairs and opened the door. "Sherlock!" He bellowed. "Can you go just one moment without blowing holes in the wall?" Sherlock was reclined on the couch. He glanced up, and John was surprised to see a look of uncertainty on his face. He shot his gun again without looking. "John," He began. "I don't know what to do." John laughed, surprised. "You? You don't know what to do?"

"Well, you don't have to act so surprised," Sherlock grumbled. John was speechless for a moment.

"Oh for God's sake, John. Don't just stand there, mouth open. As much as it pains me to say this," He said with distain. "But… I think I need your help." Now John was really speechless.

"My… My help? You need _my_ help?" John was dumbstruck, and quite certain this was a trick.

"Yes, John." Between each word he shot at the wall. "I." _Bang! _"Need." _Bang! _"Your." _Bang! _Help!" He dropped the gun onto the table and turned to face him. It almost made John laugh seeing the obvious pained expression Sherlock wore. It kind of offended him, as well, to be honest. "You're serious?" John questioned. Sherlock did not reply, but looked at him with a belittling expression. "Alright," John shook his head. "Uh, what can I help you with?" Sherlock flopped down on the couch with a sigh. "I need to purchase something for someone." John looked at him, confused.

"Like, a gift?"

"Yes"

"For whom?" John questioned.

"That information is undisclosed." He replied.

"Is it me?"

"No."

"How am I supposed to help you if I don't know who you are buying a gift for? And, why are you buying a gift for someone? You never do anything nice. For anyone. Ever." Sherlock glared at John.

"I wish to express a certain emotion for a certain person by way of material items."

"Oh… My… God…" John felt his eyes widen. "Sherlock, do you _love_ someone?"

"Oh, love is a strong word. I would perhaps go with predilection, appreciation, or ardency…"

"No way… Who is it?" John could barely believe what he was hearing.

"Would you just give me advice on what to get her, John?"

"So it's a girl?"

"What, did you think I fancied men? Why ever would you assume that?"

"No reason…" John replied awkwardly. There was silence for a few moments. "It's Molly, isn't it?" Sherlock's silence was proof enough. "Well," John continued. "Do you have any idea of what you would like to get her?" Sherlock was quiet for a few more moments before he replied.

"I don't know, John. I don't know!" She stood up and was pacing violently now. "Give me a murder victim, and I will find your killer. I have solved cases in under 5 minutes flat! And yet I cannot simply purchase an item for a woman!" He sat and put his head in his hands. "You must help me, John!" John tried to cover his laughter with a cough. "Sherlock, how about I start naming things that she may like and see if I can give you any ideas?"

"Whatever." Sherlock replied. John began to list items that he believed Molly would appreciate. Flowers, chocolate, jewelry. Generic items that are usually given to girls. "John, stop! Stop." Sherlock interrupted. "Molly is not an ordinary girl. She will not appreciate candies, or flowers, John! She is… Sophisticated, and intelligent, and…" He paused, and suddenly stood up. "Thank you John, you have been no help whatsoever!" Sherlock strode out of the door, and John heard him stomping down the stairs. John simply stood and stared at the door. _What just happened?_ He needed some tea…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Morning, Sherlock." Molly walked into the lab, her hair swinging. She was already in her lab coat. Sherlock was behind a table, analyzing something beneath the microscope. He didn't have a case, but he needed something to do. He was usually granted access to the lab, and it was where he spent most of his time. Molly worked at the morgue as well, analyzing things in the lab. She specialized in diseases. This was where he was sure he could always find her. He continued to peer into the microscope, but wasn't really seeing it. He may not have a case, but he was on a mission. John had utterly failed him last night, and Sherlock decided to take matters into his own hands. He shouldn't have asked John in the first place. Although acts of kindness were not his division, he was absolutely certain that he could do a better job than John. He glanced up at Molly. She had her back to him, and was reading some files that had been left on her desk. It was about some strange findings in a murder victim's blood from a few weeks ago. Sherlock knew because he had already read them. He always read what was left on Molly's desk before she arrived. He had assisted in said case, and found that the murder was actually a suicide. Simple case. It had barely taken him 10 minutes to solve. He observed Molly as she worked. She was humming very quietly, and shifting from foot to foot. Everything about her portrayed social awkwardness, but Sherlock knew better than to make assumptions about her intelligence based on that. She was the smartest person that he knew. Besides himself, of course, but that went without saying. At first, Sherlock hadn't noticed much about her besides her obvious attempts at flirting with him, but as he began to get to know her, he realized how much he loved her little quirks. The way she would tuck her curls behind her ear, and then pull them out to frame her face again. The way she would sing when she thought that no one could hear her. The way she was able to determine the cause of death by having just five minutes with a dead body… Sherlock had not realized that he had fallen for her until it had already happened. He did try his best to convince himself otherwise; to tell himself that it was not possible to have feelings for anyone. It was no use. He quickly tore his gaze from her as she turned around. He had work to do. As he deduced, the information passed in front of him as if on a screen. _Perfume: slight hint of jasmine and rose. Jeans: introverted and not wanting to draw attention to self. Yellow top: Feels need for logical order. Ponytail: Professional. Makeup: Concealer to cover dark circles; hasn't been sleeping well. Lipstick: Feels a need to impress someone. No jewelry: Not attached to many material items. _Sherlock stopped as he realized that Molly's eyes were on him. She jerked her head down, but not before he caught sight of a blush. "Molly." He said before he could stop himself.

"Yes, Sherlock?" She replied, obviously still embarrassed.

"I would like to know if you have plans tonight." Molly looked flustered as if that was the last thing she expected to hear.

"Well, I… I don't think that I have anything planned tonight."

"You don't. You never have plans." He replied.

"How do you know?" She was getting a bit defensive at his inferences. "Perhaps I am meeting friends, or…" She paused.

"You have not had plans on a Thursday evening for the past 7 weeks. You will most likely be working late at the lab, or retiring to your apartment to spend the evening alone."

"Okay, Sherlock. There is nothing wrong with being by myself. My plans and my social life are none of your business." She was pressing her lips together, and he could detect anger, and hurt in her expression. This was not going well. "I need to get back to work."

"Molly." He called. She turned back to face him. "I wanted to know if you wanted to do something with me this evening." She was speechless for a moment.

"Y-you… You want to do something tonight with me? Me? You mean… Like… A date?" She was sputtering and looked confused as if this were some sort of trick.

"No..." Was it a date? Well, he supposed it was. "Yes…" He felt awkward, which was not a feeling that he associated with himself. He quite disliked it. Molly was not replying. She just looked at him, mouth open, and disbelief in her eyes. She soon recovered, however, and stuttered a response.

"O-of course, I think that that would be fun. W-where are we going?"

"I will pick you up at eight tonight, and drive you."

"So, it's a surprise?"

"I suppose it is."

"Alright."

"Alright."

_Bloody hell, what had he just gotten himself into?_ There is no way he could handle this…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Molly stood in front of her mirror, frowning uncertainly. She was wearing a sage green sweater and jeans. People always said that she looked good in sage. It complimented her red hair. At first, she had been worried about what she should choose to wear, wanting to look nice, but she had received a text from Sherlock:

_Dress warm. _

_-SH_

So she had decided on a sweater. She would take a coat and mittens as well. Molly honestly had no idea where he was taking her. The fact that he was taking her somewhere was insane enough, and that thought been occupying most of her mind all day. She was going on a date with Sherlock. _A date. _She had admired him for the past year, but had never believed for a moment that he would ever return her affections. Once she had gotten over the initial shock, however, she began to get worried. All of her relationships had ended badly. How could she expect this to be any different? In the end, she decided that maybe it was time to take a leap, not knowing what was at the bottom. Sherlock was someone who hurt her on a daily basis, and she wasn't sure he even realized he was doing it. But somehow, despite all of his insults, she couldn't help but admire him. This, perhaps, was the reason she dared to believe that this relationship would be different. She couldn't help but love him. _Love? _She thought. _Well, maybe not love yet… _She carefully brushed out her curls, arranging the in a half up hairstyle. She didn't apply any more makeup than she normal wore. She didn't want Sherlock to feel that she was changing herself to get his attention. Molly checked the clock. _7:56pm._ She knew that Sherlock would be exactly on time; he was always very punctual. She grabbed her bag, house keys, coat, and mittens. She was so nervous she was shaking slightly. _7:58pm. _Molly's mind was spinning with scenarios of things that could happen during her date tonight. _What if he decides he doesn't fancy me, after all? What if I embarrass myself in front of him? _There was a knock at the door. She took a shaky breath, and opened it. Sherlock was standing on the step. He was wearing his normal button-up shirt, coat, and scarf. She nearly sighed in relief. She was afraid that she had dressed up too much, or not dressed up enough. She smiled slightly at him. "Are you ready?" He asked. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He led her outside to a cab waiting in front. He opened the door for her, closing it when she slid inside. She pressed her hands against her legs so that Sherlock couldn't see the tremors. She shouldn't be making such a big deal out of this! It was just a date! There was little conversation in the car on the way to the mystery destination. She would glance at Sherlock every once in a while, and would look away he caught her eye. "You don't have to be nervous, Molly. Relax." Sherlock was looking at her. She blushed.

"I'm not worried. I'm fine."

"I can see you shaking." He countered. Molly felt her eyes widen slightly, and her blush deepening greatly.

"I… I'm just cold." She recovered. Sherlock smirked, but didn't reply. Finally, the cab slowed and stopped. In her nervousness, she had not tried to see where they were going. She got out, and was instantly confused. "Sherlock?" She questioned. "This is the ice skating rink…"

"Yes," He replied.

"You're taking me ice skating?"

"Yes." He was getting out of the cab, and walking around to where she was standing. Molly looked at him with a mixture of emotions. Confusion, excitement, worry, and delight. "I've never been skating before," She said trying to make small talk. "I have always wanted to. Have you ever been?"

"No, I have never been ice skating."

"Well, it doesn't seem like something you will enjoy," She said confused.

"I am quite certain that I will not enjoy it, and make an embarrassment of myself."

"Well, why did you bring me, then?"

"It is something that you would like to do," He replied simply. Molly almost stopped walking. Sherlock was pretty much the opposite of selfless. Yet, he did this for her… She smiled to herself. They had reached the rink now, and Sherlock rented her ice skates to use. He didn't even have to ask for her size. Once he had purchased some for himself, they laced themselves up. Molly could barely contain her excitement! She had always wanted to go ice skating! How on earth had Sherlock known that about her? She stepped onto the ice, and tested her skates. She tried to get a feel for the balance that she would need on the ice. Keeping on hand on the edge of the rink, she experimented with motions until she could move at a reasonable pace on the ice. She dared not let go of the edge, however. Once she had made it halfway around, she glanced back to see Sherlock still had not entered the rink. He was watching her. She slid back to the entrance. "Well? Aren't you coming?" She was breathless, and was sure that her cheeks were bright pink from the cold. Her eyes sparkled. Sherlock looked nervous, which is not an emotion that Molly usually saw in him. She held out her hand. Sherlock took it in his, and allowed her to lead him to the edge of the rink. "You need to experiment a bit, to get a feel for it. Adjust your balance, and test out motions with your skates." Sherlock began to skate, slowly, and shakily. Suddenly, Sherlock's feet slid out from under him, and he toppled down, pulling her with him. Molly fell with a small cry onto Sherlock. She slipped, trying to get her balance and avoid the blades of her skates. She finally was able to pull herself back up. She looked down at Sherlock, and burst out laughing. He was sitting on the ice, with a look of bewilderment on his face. His scarf was caught in one of his skates, and he looked absolutely ridiculous! He saw her laughing, and blushed deeply. Molly tried to stop, but couldn't. "Are you alright?" She managed to get out amid her laughter.

"This is bloody ridiculous!" He scowled. She offered him a hand, which he grabbed when he could untangle himself.

"I am having more fun than I have ever had in my life." She replied when he was up on his feet. Sherlock couldn't help smiling at the happiness in her voice. A look of tenderness grew in his eyes, and caught Molly by surprise. He looked so much different when he wasn't acting arrogant or domineering. She was so surprised, that she didn't realize what was happening until after it happened. Sherlock's mouth was on hers. Her eyes widened, and she let out a small squeak. She didn't have the sense to pull away, however, and couldn't stop her eyes from closing. She sighed and melted into it. Sherlock's lips were tender, and sweet; exactly how she had always imagined they would taste. One of his hands was on the small of her back, pulling her in closer. The other was in her hair. She barely noticed. All she could feel was his lips on hers. She gasped slightly when he pulled away. It took another moment for her to function again. She forced her eyes to open. Sherlock was staring down at her, a mix of surprise and awe in his eyes. She was breathless. Other skaters were staring at them, but she hardly noticed. All she saw was his deep, green eyes, fathomless eyes. "Molly," He whispered. She could barely respond.

"Yes?"

"Our rental on the skates is about to expire." He replied still whispering. Molly closed her eyes, sighed, and started to laugh.


End file.
